


The Greatest Potions Master in History

by Tsume_Yuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Chronicles
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Rated T for Potty-Mouths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: Lord Riddle has managed to push through his marriage law and is pairing them all off. While Draco does indeed have his own problems to deal with (the sword-wielding halfblood? No thank you), he’s not self-absorbed enough to miss Rigel former fiancée has been assigned to his ass of a cousin.He certainly hasn’t missed that, while Aunt Bella is spitting fire over it, Caelum doesn’t look too upset. And Draco... Draco is an empath.So, the question is, why the hell is his asshole cousin downright euphoric to have been lumped with Harriet Potter?
Relationships: Caelum Lestrange/Harriet Potter | Rigel Black
Comments: 26
Kudos: 384
Collections: Rigel Black Exchange Round 2





	The Greatest Potions Master in History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tamari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/gifts).



While Draco might be near despondent over the name Lord Riddle’s algorithm has thrown out for him (Aileen Ross... the sword-wielding halfblood?! He has to marry that rude, free-duelling bint?!) he’s not so far gone that he misses the announcement of his cousin’s intended. 

Aunt Bella, for the lack of better description, explodes. 

Far from a firework, she’s more a volcano, boiling lava, scorching ash, monstrous thunder; it’s all there. Draco thought his own mother had been unimpressed by the halfblood selected for him but that is a candlelight next to the fiendfyre that is his aunt. She rages at the name, at the sheer audacity before she seems to suddenly recall exactly who it is that created the pairings. Then, she simpers, turning to the leader of the SOW Party with cow eyes, fluttering her lashes and asking (begging) he check again. 

The flat look on Lord Riddle’s face makes it abundantly clear exactly what he thinks of that request, but he does produce a piece of parchment with a list of information upon it. The generations of blood purity, the magical strength of both parents, the magical strength of the halfblood in question.

(What Draco doesn’t know is, having rushed his marriage law through, Lord Riddle had summoned every halfblood under the age of seventeen to be tested for their magical strength in the first week of summer. There had only been one halfblood to meet his eyes, gaze burning and refusing to look away as the crystal aggressively vibrated and the metal turned a purple so dark that, at first glance, it could be mistaken for black.)

They all watch with baited breath and, just like before, the name to appear by Caelum Lestrange’s was, once again, Harriet Potter. 

This is about the time Draco stops paying attention to his aunt (and her screams, denials, pleas) because something isn’t right.

In all of this ceremony, there has been a wash of bitter anticipation, of swirling resentment and horrified shock. The latter had been particularly potent with Nott who’d, against all odds, landed the Former-Greengrass. Oh, to be a golden-snidget in the air for that meeting. 

But now? Now there’s an emotion that doesn’t belong in the slightest. 

Surprised delight.

For all that Caelum looks bored with the whole proceedings, the same half-arsed disgust (like he doesn’t believe it’s even worth making it blatantly obvious that he believes himself better than anyone and everyone) and lips pressing into a down-turned frown...

His emotions are the complete opposite. 

There’s sweeping relief that follows his earlier delight; a warmth that soothes Draco’s own innards with how very potent it is, even though he can’t quite put a name to the emotion itself. It’s so completely at odds with what his eyes are telling him that it takes Draco a moment to accept the emotions are actually originating from his cousin at all. 

It doesn’t make any sense. His cousin detests all the purebloods he associates with, sneers and looks down upon them.

So, why the hell is his asshole cousin’s downright euphoric to have been lumped with Harriet Potter?

It’s so strange that Draco almost, almost misses the fact Rigel isn’t paired up with anybody at all. 

* * *

  
  


The Gala for all the halfbloods to meet their intendeds comes devastatingly quickly. Luckily enough for him, the school his intended resides at has a much shorter summer and she will not be free for another week. At least he won’t have to degrade himself by dancing with that brutish woman before all these people.

Besides, he has his eyes set on a much more interesting outcome for today’s events. 

Draco greets all the guests as politely as he can before he scarpers away, doing his level best not to look directly at Nott. He’d feel sorry for the other boy, had he not brought the match upon himself. If he hadn’t called Not-a-Greengrass out on her blood-test, then she wouldn’t have been in the halfblood pool and Nott wouldn’t have been paired up with her. It’s delicious irony and someone has to appreciate it; if not Draco, then who?

Regardless, Nott isn’t who he’s skulking around for. All throughout his duties as the Malfoy Heir, he’d behaved himself as would be expected from one of his standing and breeding. But he’d never failed to keep an eye on his cousin and his intended. 

So he doesn’t miss when the Potter Heiress (who’d helped him through the World Cup and wasn’t actually that bad, for a halfblood, she’s drawn the short straw here too because it probably would have been better if Rigel’s former fiancée matched with the Black Heir’s best friend) slinks away from her parents, the teal hem of her gown floating beside the blue roses that bracket the Malfoy maze. A foolish place to meet up in truth; Draco knows the maze back to front. No one can lose him in there. 

Still, it does take him a moment to catch up to the Potter Heiress and, by that time, it seems she has already started a discussion with his cousin. A cousin, Draco is startled to realise, who seems to actually know Harriet Potter. Enough to have a damn nickname for her.

He’s never known Caelum call someone a ‘brat’. It was either last names or something far, far more offensive than a measly ‘brat’.

“-see that this is ideal, Brat?”

“Ideal?” Potter parrots, the skepticism clear in her voice. He can almost picture the sharp tongued girl standing with her arms folded, favouring Caelum with a look Draco has seen many a time on Rigel’s face (and it is ridiculous how alike their voices sound).

“We’ll have one child and, given it will have us as parents, it will grow to become the greatest Potion Master in history. Then, we’ll spend the rest of our days making potions, experimenting and brewing and even developing that neat little trick you rammed together at the Guild.” 

The neat little trick- is Caelum referring to Potter’s new potion making process? Draco doesn’t quite understand it himself, but he knows Severus is very invested in the potential it has, which says an awful lot about both the process and the girl who invented it. 

What Draco is trying to wrap his head around is what Caelum is saying, how he’s saying it. 

Like he knows Potter already.

Like he doesn’t find the idea of having a child with her (a halfblood) sickening. Draco doesn’t need his empathy to know his cousin is actually happy about the outcome of Lord Riddle’s algorithm.

But the tentative curiosity Potter is exhibiting is a surprise. 

“I distinctly remember someone swallowing his pride and asking to learn my neat little potioneering trick.” 

What.

“You won’t have to balk at brewing potions with questionable legality, Potter. A good husband wouldn’t rat you out to the Head Auror.” 

What. 

“And I suppose I’m supposed to flutter into your arms now so you can whisk me away to your potions lab and it’s ridiculously comfortable floor?” 

Just- _what_. 

How does Potter even know if the Lestrange lab has a comfortable floor? She’s speaking like she’s actually been over to Dartmoor before!

“And I suppose I’ll have to permanently adjust the wards for you,” his cousin says with a snort, amusement all but curling off him. 

“Well, it was such a bother for you last time I came over-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. Lowering blood wards isn’t hard. And don’t speak as if you’ve been over more than once.” 

_Holy shit_.

Potter actually has been over to Dartmoor Castle. His cousin put the wards down for her.

Merlin.

He can’t believe what he’s hearing but, against all rational thought, it seems like Caelum and Potter are actually friends. It sounds like Potter doesn’t actually mind the idea of marrying his cousin so that they can be weird together and brew potions all day long, probably avoiding as many social arrangements as they can, just like Uncle Severus does-

His cousin is the pureblood version of Severus.

And Potter, against all odds, is the female version.

Oh, he’s exaggerating a bit, but who cares?! 

His asshole to everyone cousin actually gets along with Potter and Potter seems to like him too. 

Bloody hell. 

Why in Merlin’s name is it that the only person Riddle’s algorithm has made happy is his bastard of a cousin?


End file.
